The King's Circle
by Totally-Out-Of-It
Summary: Merlin has disguised himself as a knight, a bandit, and even a woman. Now, he must become a prince. Arthur is the new king of Camelot and nobility comes from across Albion to celebrate his coronation - except one of them is planning something sinister. To find the villain before anyone is harmed, Arthur sends in Merlin – dressed as a visiting noble!
1. Chapter 1

**The King's Circle**

 _Merlin has disguised himself as a knight, a bandit, and even a woman Now, he must become a prince. Arthur is the new king of Camelot and nobility comes from across Albion to celebrate his coronation - except one of them is planning something sinister. To find the villain before anyone is harmed, Arthur sends in Merlin – dressed as a visiting noble!_

…

…

Wrote this as part of the Merlin Reverse Bang event, hosted on LiveJournal by narlth and side_steppings. We humble writers were paired with some amazing artists in the Merlin fandom and tasked with creating stories fit for the art presented to us. My awesome and talented artist is merlin8arthur, also known as visions-of-red on tumblr. The prompt supplied with the original art was "Merlin gets to wear Arthur's circlet."

To see the art associated with this fic, visit me on AO3: JessicaMDawn, since FFN does not have a picture function.

Enjoy!

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The servants were standing at the side entrance doors, prepared to help if needed but out of the way in the great hall. Merlin was standing next to a window with Gaius and Gwen. The knights were along the edges of the central walkway that Arthur would walk down in just a few moments. Geoffrey was in front of the throne, a crown in his hand, waiting. Every person with a modicum of noble blood was seated in the front rows, the freeman behind them, and a few choice commoners made up the back of the room. It was a well attended coronation.

The heavy wooden doors of the throne room were pulled open and all eyes glanced back as Arthur entered, dressed in his best and most kingly outfit. Without a word and with barely a sound, he made his way between the crowds of people toward the steps leading to the thrones. No one spoke, but they all watched in interest.

Instead of ascending the steps, Arthur knelt at them. Geoffrey stepped closer to him and asked, "Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of Camelot according to their respective laws and customs?"

"I solemnly swear so to do."

"Will you, to your power, cause law and justice in mercy to be executed in all your judgments?"

"I will," Arthur promised with feeling.

Geoffrey lifted the crown. "Then by the sacred law vested in me, I crown you, Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot."

The crown was set in place on Arthur's golden blonde hair. The bookkeeper stepped back and away. Then the new king stood and turned to face his people. As one, the crowd chanted:

"Long live the king! Long live the king! Long live the king!"

Somehow, above all the other attendees gathered calls, Merlin could be heard cheering proudly.

"Long live the king!"

…

…

Hours later, Arthur was finally able to return to his chambers. Merlin, who had shadowed the king every step of the way, quietly shut the door behind them. The lock slid into place and Arthur took what felt like his first breath.

"I'm the king," Arthur said into the still silence of his room.

"You're the king," Merlin echoed.

Both of their voices seemed to die inches after leaving their mouths. The wind did not shake the glass panes of the window, nor shift the curtains. No rats squeaked from under the bed. Outside the moon was high, and Arthur's crown weighed heavily upon his head.

The fire leapt to life abruptly, but Arthur did not startle. In fact, the crackling of the wood made his hands unclench from the fists Arthur had held them in for the past hour. Then Merlin's hands were on his shoulders. The cloak came unbuckled, was folded and draped over a chair. The crown was lifted with careful fingers and set with reverence beside the bed. Merlin untied Arthur's tunic and pulled it over Arthur's head. Both boots were unlaced and carefully pulled from Arthur's feet, then set aside. Finally, Arthur's trousers and pants were removed in the same simple, quiet manner.

The new king was left naked but for his ring and the glow of the fire. He met Merlin's eyes in the dim light.

"Things are going to change now, Merlin," Arthur said. Despite the heavy words, Arthur already felt lighter simply from the removal of his clothes, as if the fabric held all of his worldly concerns

Merlin nodded. "We always knew they would, once you became the king. You'll have lots of new responsibilities. You'll be expected to make a lot of decisions, and everyone will look to you for answers to the kingdom's problems. But it's not like that's new for you. It's not a bad thing, Arthur." He turned to retrieve Arthur's bedclothes from the wardrobe, speaking as he moved.

He held out the pants for Arthur, who took them and stepped into them obligingly. "True. And no matter what else changes, I know I'll at least always have you with me for it."

It may have been a trick of the light, but Arthur was certain that Merlin's cheeks darkened at the frank, open statement.

"You will," Merlin assured him. "My magic is yours to command."

Shaking his head, Arthur leaned into Merlin's personal space. He pressed a brief kiss to Merlin's lips before leaning back, smirking. "I wasn't talking about the magic," he said in a low voice. He smirked and, when he next spoke, his voice was lighter. "And if all goes according to plan, soon you'll have lots of new responsibilities as well. Court Magician and First Counselor. Those are heavy titles."

The king left his manservant standing there and headed for the bed. It hadn't been turned down for the night, but Arthur didn't mind. He pulled the bedding down himself and slipped underneath. Merlin was standing at the foot of the bed, leaning his shoulder against the post, when Arthur was done.

"Merlin," he said, a familiar hint of whine in his voice that made Merlin's lips quirk up almost against their will. "Hurry up and change out of those clothes. I'm tired."

Now smiling fully, though without teeth, Merlin gave an amused shake of his head and left for the antechamber. It took only a minute or so for him to change, and then Merlin had returned and was joining Arthur under the rich blankets of a king's bed.

"At least that'll never change," Merlin quipped.

Throwing an arm over Merlin's chest and pressing his nose into Merlin's shoulder, Arthur mumbled, "Go to sleep, Merlin," and the promptly followed his own command.

…

…

The map of the lands of Albion took up much of the table in the council chambers. There were flags all over it, showing the movement of kings, princes, princesses, and nobility of all kinds.

"Oyfed and Gawant are set to arrive next week," one councilman said. "I would remind the king that the two kingdoms are currently having a border dispute."

Arthur nodded. He knew full well that the two kingdoms were arguing over every craggy inch of their border. It was, in his opinion, a petty fight among people who, in every other instance, were perfectly amenable neighbors.

"Give them rooms in opposite wings of the castle. Everyone from Oyfed in rooms in the north wing Everyone from Gawant in the south," Arthur said. "If they have an argument over pudding, they can simply escape to their rooms and not worry about running into each other."

Another council member pointed to the eastern border of Camelot and Arthur's lips pressed into a thin line. Escetir. It was Merlin's homeland and the first on Arthur's list of kingdoms he'd like to make an alliance with. In fact, if Merlin's dragon was to be believed and Arthur would eventually unite all the lands of Albion, he wanted Escetir to be the first to join.

Arthur made sure not to cross his arms while he addressed the council. Instead he kept them open on the table top. "We'll house the visitors from Escetir on the second level."

The councilmen shifted uncomfortably. The second floor was where Arthur himself had a room. If they began housing people from Escetir on the second floor, then someone with ill intent would have fewer guards to pass to get to their king's chambers.

"The new king of Escetir has presented himself, so far, as much more inclined to peace than his predecessor. I see no reason to doubt his integrity and honor until some proof has been brought against him to the contrary," Arthur said, rebuking them for their disingenuous thoughts. "Placing the envoy from Escetir here shows that we are dedicated to forming a better, more stable relationship and will set an optimistic tone for their entire visit."

Everyone present agreed that the logic and tactics were sound. Their king knew what he was doing.

One councilman, the one with the longest beard but who was the youngest other than Arthur, spoke up. "Escetir's new king may or may not be plotting against you, your majesty, but they are not the only ones we need to fear."

All eyes turned to him curiously. "What do you mean?" Arthur asked.

"Reports have come in that at least one of the nobles or envoys wishes you harm, sire," the councilman said, which made the other council members shift uneasily in their seats.

They'd lost a king only a short time ago. Their new king was just crowned. What would happen if he was killed so quickly? The kingdom would fall to civil unrest until a new leader took power.

"Do we know who these nobles are?" Arthur asked, seemingly almost at ease with the threat looming over him.

The councilman shook his head. "No. They'd done something to the spies. Their minds were scrambled. When they returned, they knew they'd overheard or witnessed something, but the details were clouded. They rushed to tell us about the plot. A plot clearly orchestrated by an enemy with magic."

It was the kill word. Magic. The council chambers shuddered with it. There was a frown, of worry or disgust, on every face. Arthur made note of each nuanced one.

Arthur didn't respond to the threat of magic. Instead, he responded to the threat of attack. "Do your spies know when or where the attack may happen?"

"It will occur during the coronation festivities," the councilman said. "Of that we are certain. One of the nobles on their way here, at this very moment, to celebrate your rise to power is actively plotting against you."

"And they have magic on their side," another councilman reminded everyone, as if they had forgotten so quickly.

Arthur glanced toward the doors of the council chambers. Merlin was outside. He was cleaning Arthur's chambers or seeing to Arthur's horses or polishing Arthur's armor or washing and mending Arthur's clothes. And he was probably doing most of it with magic.

…

…

A very different kind of council occurred that night in Arthur's chambers.

"Is there a way to…to unscramble the spies? So they can tell us what they know?" Merlin asked. He was pacing the room and had lost his jacket to Arthur's dirty laundry pile over an hour ago.

Gaius, sitting at Arthur's table while Arthur stood by the window looking pensive, shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. We'll have to make do with the information they've already given us."

Merlin let out an aggravated huff. He was more visibly upset than Arthur himself.

"There's got to be something I can do," Merlin said. "Some way of figuring out who's after Arthur before they attack."

For a few long moments, no one spoke. Gaius stared at the wood of the table and his own wrinkled hands. Merlin, though still moving slowly about the room, was mentally flipping through his magic books up in the tower. Arthur looked out across his city, his kingdom, and imagined the entourage of people on their way to congratulate him, running through everything he knew to try and guess who would want him dead so soon after his coronation.

Then, leaning back in his chair, Gaius said, "Actually, there might be."

"There might be what?" Merlin asked.

Gaius turned his gaze on his ward. "There might be a way for you to figure out who's after Arthur before they attack," he said. "Tell me, Merlin, you've felt magic at work in the castle before, correct?" A nod. "And followed it to its source?"

Another nod. Arthur turned from the window to face them.

"So it stands to reason that you could sense if a magical assassin was nearby," Gaius explained. "If they used magic, you would likely feel it."

"But we want to sense them _before_ they use magic and kill the king, Gaius," Merlin reminded him. "I mean, I could probably tell they were magic without them actively casting, but I'd have to be pretty close to them for that."

Gaius let out a sigh and stood. "Then the problem doesn't seem to be how to learn who's doing the plotting. The problem is how to get a servant close enough to nobility to check."

After another moment's silence, Arthur uncrossed his arms. "Thank you, Gaius. Have a good night's rest."

The physician took it for the dismissal it was, bowed, and left. As soon as the door was shut, Merlin dropped to sit on the floor by the bed. He ran his hands through his hair and down his face, then rested his arms on his knees.

"How am I supposed to get close to these people?" Merlin murmured, almost to himself.

Arthur stepped away from the window, but Merlin didn't even glance his way. He went to the wardrobe and opened it. Then, leaving the doors ajar, he came to sit by Merlin next to the bed.

"I've snuck around rooms before, and played the fool to get near a lord or two, but this is a whole new level of impossible," Merlin was still saying. "There are going to be dozens of nobles here. Some of them might let some stupid servant near them, but I don't stand a chance with the rest."

Someone was going to catch him. Of that, Merlin was sure. They'd get offended that a servant was coming so close to them, was being so friendly, or so nosey. The old claims that Arthur let his servant get away with too much would arise again. They'd ask for Merlin's imprisonment, or perhaps death. Or worse, they'd think Arthur was using Merlin to spy on them, being underhanded, and the alliances Arthur hoped to build or maintain would fall to ruin.

Beside him, Arthur shifted, and then he was placing something weighty on Merlin's head. It circled his head, holding his hair down. Though he'd never worn it, Merlin knew this weight, this shape and size. It was Arthur's circlet.

Arthur kept one hand on the circlet, and in Merlin's hair, while he lifted a handheld mirror in the other, letting Merlin see himself wearing the circlet of gold and gemstones that Arthur had been given to wear as Crowned Prince of Camelot, heir to the throne.

"I think we can pull this off," Arthur noted. "What do you think, Merlin?"

Merlin's brain stumbled. "Pull this….what?"

Lowering the mirror and releasing the circlet, though still with his hand in Merlin's hair, Arthur faced Merlin. "You as a prince, obviously."

Merlin still didn't understand. His confusion must've shown on his face, because Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not a prince," Merlin responded, almost testily.

"No," Arthur agreed. "But the nobility set to arrive next week don't know that. I'll have clothes made up for you, get you a sword to wear at your belt, a horse of your own, maybe even some servants to wait on you. We'll claim you're the crowned prince of somewhere, somewhere that isn't sending a delegation for the coronation festivities."

Now Merlin got it. "As a prince, I can get as close to other nobles as I want. I can ask them questions, see what they know. I can walk right up to them, bump into them even, without causing them offense."

Though Merlin was now grinning, Arthur frowned. "Let's keep the bumping to a minimum, shall we?" he suggested. "Princes do not trip and stumble all over themselves like the village idiot."

Merlin hummed, then reached up to adjust how the circlet was sitting on his head. His ears stuck out and his hair was a mess from Merlin running his hands through it too much and not brushing it besides. Still, he looked cute in Arthur's circlet, which shouldn't be possible when wearing royal accessories.

"Maybe this won't work after all," Arthur considered, putting a hand to his chin.

"Why not?" Merlin asked with a frown. He'd been getting excited about the ruse.

A bare lift of Arthur's lips. "You're so clumsy all the time, and you can't lie to save your own life. I doubt anyone would believe you were really royalty."

Merlin shoved Arthur to the side, causing the king to chortle. "I've been watching _you_ prance around long enough, haven't I?" Merlin asserted. "I think I can handle it."

He reached out to fiddle with the circlet again, unused to its weight. Arthur's hand covered his after a moment, stopping the movement. When he met the king's eyes, Arthur had an almost unbearably fond look on his face.

"First rule," Arthur said softly. "Stop touching the crown. A prince would be used to wearing one."

Merlin couldn't even work up a proper frown. He didn't always know what caused Arthur to get quiet like this, but he knew it meant Arthur was only going to get more intimate as the night wore on. "But I'm not."

Arthur grinned. "Then you'll have to practice." He released Merlin's hand and ran his fingers along the top of the crown, touching the skin on Merlin's forehead the entire way with gentle pressure. "You'll wear it every time we're alone, just to make sure."

Letting out a long, slow breath, Merlin said, "I think I can handle that too."

…

…

A week later found Arthur standing on the steps of the castle courtyard, watching as carriage after carriage of lord and ladies and their servants and their guard all came to join in the festivities. Some, those not planning to stay as long or who brought less of an entourage, came on horseback and foot as well. Men came from Mora and ladies from Mercia, lords from Tirmaiur and kings of the Northern Plains, not to mention King Aglovale, the new king of Escetir.

Arthur recognized every sigil and, within a few seconds, every name attached to them. He couldn't help but think, however, as he welcomed Queen Enid, that he missed Merlin whispering in his ear.

Merlin had been at every session where Arthur had to learn the names of these lords and ladies, had quizzed him on them, and liked to try and help by standing too close and reminding Arthur of the names just before they met someone.

From a garish carriage in red and silver came a pompous young man – younger than Arthur at least. He had dark hair combed back from his face, with eyes that sat a bit too close together and a long nose. The youth looked around with an air of jealous curiosity at the castle while his father also descended from the carriage.

"King Gerren," Arthur greeted. "Welcome."

King Gerren, broad shouldered but thin everywhere else, gave a deep bow. His son followed his example a moment later, though not so deeply. "Your majesty," he said. "Thank you for inviting my son, Cador, and myself to your castle. It is an honor."

Arthur smiled and held out a hand, which Gerren took in a firm shake. "The honor is mine, King Gerren."

Servants were already removing the King and Prince's things from the carriage while they talked. Arthur nodded in the servants' direction and then motioned toward a woman standing at the top of the stairs. "Margery will show you to your rooms. I hope they are to your liking."

As the king and his son ascended the steps, their carriage pulled away to be housed with the others until they were needed again. Arthur watched until Prince Cador was inside and then turned his attention back to the gates. The scout had told Arthur there were four groups on their way, so that should be the last one for awhile. He could go back inside and check on the banquet plans, or send someone to make sure all the guests so far were happy with their arrangements.

Or he could go back to his chambers and worry about how Merlin was doing.

As if called by his thoughts, Merlin appeared at the gates. Except it wasn't Merlin at all. He was dressed in a fine, long-sleeved black tunic with a leather vest that looked butter soft, sword in its scabbard at his waist, and a deep blue riding cloak that cast out behind him in the breeze. The wind was also playing with his hair, making the carefully styled black locks curl around the white and gold of the prince's circlet resting on his head.

He rode his horse with a straight back, one hand on the reins and the other resting casually on the saddle horn, hardly bouncing in his seat at all. The stallion he road was a black Friesian, full bodied, stalwart, with long, silky hair feathering around each of its hooves. Merlin's blue cloak was stark against all the black, and even from this distance Arthur swore he could see the matching blue of Merlin's eyes sparkling in the midday light.

Even though Arthur had arranged Merlin's party, he still failed to realize they had entered the courtyard behind the rather stunning display that Merlin was putting on. Had Merlin always been that good at horseback riding? Probably. They'd traversed the length and breadth of Camelot on horseback together, Arthur and Merlin. Still, Arthur had never seen him looking so regal in a saddle before.

Maybe Merlin could pull this off after all.

The stallion pulled to a stop near the steps and Merlin dismounted with his usual level of grace. He didn't slip or stumble, but it wasn't quite as agile and polished as Arthur would manage.

"Your Highness," Arthur greeted, lips upturn, with a short inclination of his head.

Merlin gave a deep bow of his own, causing his riding cloak to pool on the stone of the courtyard floor. "Your Majesty." His words were solemn, but when he caught Arthur's eyes, he was grinning like a fool.

"Careful, Prince Balinor," Arthur warned quietly, using Merlin's chosen false name to remind him that this wasn't a game. Merlin's grin faded like the morning mist. Arthur smiled benignly at him. "Welcome to Camelot. I hope the journey wasn't too hard on you."

"It's nothing I haven't experienced before," Merlin said, matching Arthur's inflection perfectly. "A good ride and a fine hunt can cure a multitude of ills, I find. Being in the saddle is almost like being at home."

It actually took Arthur aback to hear what amounted to _his_ voice coming out of Merlin's mouth. How was he doing this? Magic? Merlin said he was a terrible liar, but he was acting every bit the prince that Arthur was – royal, humble, and yet a bit of a prat.

Now it was Arthur's turn to stumble in his role. "Well, that's-I agree." He cleared his throat and motioned to the woman standing at the top of the stairs. "Rhoslyn will show you to your chambers."

He watched as Merlin, accompanied by four servants carrying cases of belongings, walked up the stairs to meet Rhoslyn. Since only those who would be part of Merlin's entourage had been informed of the plan, Rhoslyn looked appropriately startled to find herself faced with Merlin in fine dress. But she handled herself wonderfully, bowing as was appropriate for a prince and then leading them away. Arthur wondered if Merlin had said something to her as he approached, but he couldn't hear from where he stood.

Merlin had arrived. The plan to find an assassin had officially begun. Arthur let out a deep sigh, turned, and reentered the castle. There was much to do.

…

…

When Arthur had come up with the plan to have Merlin pretend to be a prince, he'd also decided not to tell anyone who wasn't directly involved in the plot. Gaius knew, and the few servants posing as Merlin's own knew, but none of the knights and most of the castle staff had no idea. Ostensibly this was to prevent any of them letting the visitors know that Merlin wasn't a noble. Getting to see them all start in surprise when they saw him sitting at the banquet table next to Lord Maleagant was a bonus enjoyment.

Merlin didn't find it nearly so funny. He struggled to maintain his princely persona now that he was in view of people he worked with on a daily basis.

"I'm sorry, I missed your arrival," he said, nervously, to the lady next to him, the one with golden hair. "Where are you from again?"

He knew who she was. This was Lady Laudine, Countess of the Fountain of Landuc. Her father, a duke, never left the lands which had been given to him, and Laudine traveled in his place. But as the supposed prince of distant Lothian, Merlin doubted he was expected to know a mere countess of Caerleon. He hoped she had never been to Lothian and met their prince before. Probably not, but one never knew, and Merlin sometimes had terrible luck.

She smiled at him and it was radiant. "I hail from Caerleon to the west. And yourself, Prince Balinor?"

Merlin accepted the goblet of wine from Daisy, who hid a smile behind her pitcher as she handed it to him, before answering. "Hm? Oh. My kingdom is to the north. Lothian."

Laudine lifted her eyebrows. "You traveled a great distance to meet the new king of Camelot."

It seemed she had never been to Lothian. Merlin's shoulders relaxed.

A shrug. "What can I say? I believe he will do great things for Camelot."

He took a sip of the wine, fine wine, wine that was all his and no one else's. And all the food on the table before him! It was a bit overwhelming. Merlin hesitated to eat anything for fear of someone shouting at him for eating the nobility's feast. But everyone around him was eating merrily and to not eat looked suspicious, so if he didn't want to be found out, he would have to act like this was nothing new for him.

The evening's fare was so good, so fresh and warm and of such good quality, that it was several minutes before Merlin remembered that he wasn't just there to feast and be merry, like the others.

"I heard a strange rumor, on my journey to Camelot," he said in opening to Laudine. She put her food down and gave him her full attention. "I heard that someone might be bringing a sorcerer with them, even though magic is still outlawed here."

The countess opened her mouth to respond, but a mirthless, cutting laugh from Merlin's other side cut her off before she could begin. Lord Maleagant was scowling into his wine. "Sorcerers," he grumbled. "Scum's what they are. Killers. Camelot has the right idea about them, at least."

Laudine frowned. "You seem to be of the same mind as the late King Uther Pendragon," she said disapprovingly. "You believe that those who practice magic are cut from the same cloth as devils."

Maleagant shot her a look of contempt. "That I do. Sorcerers are only good for causing harm to other people. If they aren't hurting you, they're hurting someone else. That magic's turned their souls as black as tar."

There was a weight in Merlin's chest. Lord Maleagant was not a lord of Camelot, but his opinion on magic users still felt like a threat to Merlin. Arthur knew of Merlin's gifts, so he didn't fear what the king would do if someone tried to out Merlin for it someday. In fact, he knew Arthur was planning on lifting the ban on magic within the year, once people were more used to him as king. But this man was proof that the people's distaste of magic was not limited to Camelot. There were people throughout Albion who believed magic was evil. Being accepted, with his magic on full display, would be a constant battle.

And then there were people like Lady Laudine, who was clearly upset by Maleagant's words, taking offense on behalf of the magic users who were not present. She was proof that people could accept magic users as people, that people could see beyond the deeds of a few bad sorcerers to the good that magic could do.

"Magic is only as good or evil as the person who wields it," Merlin heard himself say before he could stop himself, and his voice was full of simmering flames. "It's no more damning than a sword or mace."

Maleagant barely held in his sneer. "I've never been to Lothian. Are all it's nobility so naïve as you? Or are there no magic users in your land?"

Anger blazed in Merlin and he glared at the contemptuous man beside him. Before he could get into a shouting match, which would've been very un-princely, a hand touched his shoulder and drew his attention. It was Laudine, though she was looking at Maleagant and not at Merlin.

"Now, I _have_ been to Oyfed, to the lands granted to your father, Lord Maleagant," she said in a strict tone, his name leaving her mouth like something bitter. "And I know for a fact that most of the nobility, and even the peasantry, have better manners than what you are showing."

Maleagant sat back in his seat like he'd been slapped.

"It is unbecoming to insult another noble the way you have just now. We can disagree on subjects without calling into question each other's intelligence or slighting an entire kingdom's citizens," Laudine continued. "So I suggest, my lord, that you alter your actions so that they more befit your station. As a prince, His Royal Highness, Prince Balinor outranks you."

Then, as if nothing had happened and she had not said a word, Laudine relaxed in her chair and took another bite of the pheasant.

"Lovely feast, isn't it?" she asked Merlin pleasantly.

He could only stare at her with wide eyes for several moments. Then, nodding, he said, "Yes. Yes, it's lovely." He cleared his throat. "You're fantastic." Arthur should definitely make friends with her, if no one else.

Laudine waved his compliment away. "I was raised in a castle, is all," she told him. "I just can't stand eating with the pigs."

To Merlin's right, Lord Maleagant sat and seethed for the rest of the night.

…

…

One of Merlin's servants, a boy named Branagh that was fifteen and rather new to the castle comparatively speaking, walked him back to his room.

"Thank you, Branagh," Merlin said when they reached his door. Since they were alone in the corridor, he didn't hesitate to drop his princely act. "You'll need to come wake me up in time for breakfast."

Branagh nodded, his dark hair falling into his eyes. "Yes, sure thing." Then he grinned. "Your majesty."

Merlin's cheeks grew hot and he waved the boy away. He waited until Branagh had disappeared around the corner before entering his own chambers. He didn't need someone to help him undress. He was more than capable. Besides, that would require more ceremony than he, a servant himself, felt comfortable taking from another servant.

Inside the guest chambers, in a seat by the warmly crackling fireplace, sat Camelot's new king, Arthur Pendragon. Merlin quickly closed and locked the door behind himself. "Arthur," he said, partly in greeting and partly in reprimand.

Arthur gave him a pleasant grin. "It is my castle, Merlin."

Rolling his eyes, Merlin began removing his jacket. It was made of leather of the same high quality as the one he'd rode in on, but with more intricate designs for a more formal setting than the road. "I didn't find out anything at dinner," he said solemnly. "But I really only spoke with three or four people the entire night."

Arthur nodded and stood from his seat. "I expected as much," he admitted. "Tomorrow night is the ball that truly celebrates my coronation. I imagine that's when the assassin will try and strike." He walked over to where Merlin stood, still holding his jacket. "So you'll have all day tomorrow to mingle with the visiting nobles and figure out which of them has magic."

Merlin let out a sigh. "Pretending to be a prince is hard," he said, when Arthur raised a curious brow. "I'm used to playing the fool. No one suspects you of anything if they think you're an idiot."

Arthur couldn't contest this. Merlin had been forced to visibly prove he had magic before Arthur would believe him, despite all the evidence he'd seen of it over the years. And Merlin had managed to do a lot of investigative work throughout his time in Camelot simply because anyone who caught him thought he was addled in the head and incapable of doing anything underhanded.

"As a prince, I have to keep calm or cause a scene," Merlin continued, complaining openly now. "Even if someone is a complete ass, I can't do anything to him directly. And I have to seem like I know everything even when I don't. Granted, it's not as hard as pretending to know nothing when I know something, but still!"

Grinning, Arthur pulled the circlet from Merlin's head and set it on the bed. "Maybe now you'll appreciate what it's like to be me more."

Merlin snorted. "No. Pretending to be you is easy. Not fighting people is hard. It's usually your job to get me out of those messes."

That was also true. Whenever Merlin got into it with someone above his rank, or with anyone really, it had always been Arthur who stepped in and saved him. He covered for Merlin's fiery sense of justice almost as often as Merlin saved Arthur's life from magic or subterfuge.

Arthur laughed, loud and hearty, at this realization. "I'm amazed. To think, the way to finally make you keep your mouth shut was to make you a prince," he chuckled.

Shaking his head, Merlin stepped in until there was almost no space between him and Arthur. That made the laughter taper off. "You wouldn't know what to do with me if I were a prince this whole time," Merlin said. He was teasing, but there was a serious edge to it.

Arthur's eyes seemed to flash in the light from the fire. "I'm sure I could think of many things to do with you."

It was a statement full of promise and Merlin barely kept himself from shaking with it. Arthur reached his hands up and held Merlin's face. Leaning in, he kissed Merlin's forehead, right where the band of the circlet had rested all day. He moved down for a proper kiss, simple, chaste, on the lips. Then he pressed deeper. Merlin welcomed it.

It had been months of this, and still Merlin reveled in it. At first, Arthur hadn't agreed to a more intimate relationship with Merlin, despite admitting he had feelings for his servant, precisely _because_ Merlin was his servant. He had power over Merlin. He was in control.

Then Merlin had revealed his magic to Arthur, to show him how equal in power they were. And also to save Arthur's life, which probably did a lot to break through Uther's teachings that magic made people bad and also lessened Arthur's shock over the next few days.

Now, they had this. Where Arthur didn't hesitate to touch him in private. Where their lips and limbs came together as if to make them one being. Where Arthur could take Merlin apart with one blow and Merlin could take Arthur apart with less than that.

It was more than Merlin had ever dreamed of, and everything he wanted for as long as he was allowed to have it. For the king could not keep a servant as a consort.

…

…

Branagh brought Merlin breakfast the same way Merlin had always brought Arthur breakfast, except on time. He presented it with a flourish, like there was a joke going on that he and Merlin were both party to. Merlin supposed it was the 'a servant fetching a servant breakfast because he's playing at being a prince' joke.

"Are the visiting nobles out and about already?" Merlin asked as he began eating.

Branagh nodded. "Some of them. Some are still sleeping, privileged lot that they are, but I saw quite a lot of them in the halls or courtyard. I think the king is preparing to ride with a few."

Merlin couldn't hold in a heavy sigh. There went Arthur, riding off into the woods with who could tell, one of which might be trying to kill him. He wanted Merlin to die young from stress. That was it. That was the truth.

He should probably try and get in on that ride.

Stuffing the rest of his food in his mouth like it was about to disappear by magic, Merlin quickly pulled on his tunic and trousers for the day before hurrying out the door in as dignified a manner as he was able. Which, granted, probably wasn't very if Branagh's laughter was any indication.

Running was out of the question, dressed as he was and with so many visiting nobles around, so Merlin walked as quickly as his legs would carry him. When he reached the courtyard, it was the see the backside of five horses just as they rode out of sight. Arthur, dressed in kingly fashion with his crown on his head and red cloak billowing out behind him, rode in the very center of the group.

"If he gets himself killed I swear I'll murder him myself," Merlin muttered, before turning to re-enter the castle.

Immediately, he ran into a woman hurrying down the stairs. She bounced away from him in an instant, but Merlin still felt the sudden gust of magic, like bumping into a wall because he took a corner too fast.

While he was frozen in place, the woman cast her gaze fretfully around the courtyard. She saw the stable hands milling about but no horses, and let out a big gush of air while clutching handfuls of her dirty blonde hair.

"Oh no," she whined, to herself. "I missed them."

Merlin's eyes were focused on the broach fixed to the center of her chest. It was dark red and glimmered in the early sunlight. It was also magic.

"Did you see them go?"

Jerking his head up from the woman's chest, he saw it was Elaine of Corbenik. Merlin gave her a quizzical look. He hadn't heard a word she said. "Who?"

Motioning toward the open gates to the courtyard, Elaine said, "The men who rode off this morning."

"Uh, yes," Merlin admitted. His heart was racing at the discovery of magic. "I, um, arrived just before they were gone." He had to stop hemming and hawing. Princes didn't hem and haw. He looked like an idiot.

Elaine gave him a pitying look. "You wanted to go too, hm? And you missed them by less than I did." Indeed, she was dressed for riding. Elaine looked almost like Morgana, back in the early days, ready for battle instead of the ballroom.

She sighed, still playing with her hair with one hand, and looked off to the side like she could see the men on horseback from where she stood. Merlin went back to examining her magical broach in the least conspicuous way he could, only glancing at it from the corner of his eyes.

"My father seems to think it's only proper for me to ride if there are other women present in the riding party, and he acts like I'm still a young girl, and not several years past the age normal for marriage. It's as if he were guarding something pure, innocent, and helpless." She met his eyes conspiratorially and he stopped looking at the broach. "I shouldn't say this, but he's too overprotective."

Protection! Merlin's heart calmed. He recognized the magic on the broach now. It was a spell of protection. No doubt Elaine had no idea there was a spell on it, or she wouldn't be wearing it, if she hated all the current limitations on her actions.

"Why are you telling me this?" Merlin asked, subtly reaching out with his own magic to verify that the spell on the broach was defensive. "You've never-We've never met."

Elaine shrugged and looked him over. "I'm not sure. You seem like someone who's good at listening." She held out a hand. "My name is Elaine of Corbenik. And you are?"

As soon as they grasped hands, Merlin could tell that anyone with dark intentions toward Elaine would never get near her. The spell on the broach was meant to make them forget why they wanted to get near Elaine in the first place. They would come within a certain distance, then suddenly veer slightly off and wander away, mildly confused. If something dangerous came near her, it would likewise be diverted.

Smiling, Merlin said, "Prince Balinor, of Lothien. It's a pleasure to meet such a fine horsewoman."

A warm flush covered her cheeks and Merlin knew he'd already won her over.

…

…

The next woman Merlin spoke to that day was already a friend. Guinevere found him in the stables two hours later. Arthur hadn't returned yet and Merlin was having a stable hand ready his own horse, the black Friesian he'd ridden in on, to go after them.

"Well you've definitely got the servants gossiping."

Merlin jumped and faced her where she stood only a few feet behind him. "Gwen!"

Gwen looked him up and down. "The only person I've seen dress this nicely in Camelot is Arthur himself, and only for important events," she teased. "Did you raid Arthur's closet?"

"Shh," Merlin said, holding a finger to his mouth and glancing around. The only other person in the stable at the moment was the stable hand readying Merlin's horse. "Not so loud. I'm in disguise."

Now Gwen's eyebrows drew together. "Disguise? Why…why do you need a disguise?"

Glancing around again, and finding no one, Merlin turned to the stable hand. "Stefan," he said, and the young man stopped gathering tack to look at him. "Could you…give us a few minutes?"

Stefan nodded. "Sure thing. I'll be outside at the pen. Just come fetch me when you're done." He set the tack in a small pile out of the way, ready to be picked up again and used in moments, and then walked out of the stable and out of earshot.

"One of the visiting nobles is going to try and kill Arthur with magic and Arthur has me in this get up so I can pretend to be a visiting prince to get close to the other visitors, figure out who it is trying to kill him, and stop them before they succeed," Merlin explained in a quiet rush.

Gwen gave a start, hands flying to cover her mouth. "Someone wants to kill Arthur?" she asked through her fingers. "Why?"

A shake of the head. "We're not sure. It's my job to find out who it is and stop them, though, not to figure out why."

Gwen stepped to the side and held on to one of the horse stalls for support. Merlin didn't hesitate to go to her and offer his hands as further support.

"But he's just become king. He hasn't done anything to anyone. In fact, he's already begun to change things for the better," Gwen said. "Why kill him? It doesn't make sense."

Merlin gave a sad and slightly bitter smile. "Not everyone is as kind as you are, Gwen." For a few moments, they stood there in silence while Gwen came to terms with what she'd heard. "That's why you have to keep quiet," Merlin continued then. "No one can know I'm actually from Camelot. If they knew I wasn't a prince, none of these nobles would let me anywhere near them, let alone talk to me like I was a person."

Before he was even finished speaking, Gwen was nodding. "I understand. If you need any help, please let me know. I'll do everything I can."

"Thank you, Gwen."

The black Friesian horse snorted and shifted its footing, bored of standing around and waiting for its riding gear. The sound drew Gwen's attention.

"Why are you readying a horse?" she asked, sounding less dumbstruck than before.

Merlin frowned in the direction of the horse. "Arthur went out this morning with some of the visitors without telling me. You'd think that, with someone out for his life, he'd be more careful, but no."

"So you were going out after him," Gwen stated. She shifted just enough to pull herself from Merlin's supportive grasp. "You're so protective of him, sometimes I'm surprised he doesn't make you a knight."

There was a slight smile on her face and Merlin was glad to see that news of a possible attack hadn't shocked her too badly. It wasn't actually that surprising. Arthur had been targeted by people all the time while still a prince. Why should becoming king change that?

Gwen looked from the horse to Merlin a few times with a contemplative look on her face, then to the door. When she faced Merlin again, she said, "Maybe Arthur doesn't want you to come after him."

Merlin frowned. "So? If one of those nobles is the one trying to kill him, it doesn't matter what he wants."

"Maybe he knows that those nobles _aren't_ after him. Maybe that's why he went riding with them and no one else, without telling anyone," Gwen said. "Think about it. If he knew those men were safe, then that means you have fewer people to look into here at home."

Well, Elaine's pendant had been only for protection, defense, not anything harmful. If those visiting nobles were using magic, it was possible that their spells were in the same line of benign magic as Elaine's.

"He should've told me that," Merlin grumbled, crossing his arms. "If I believe you, and I want to, it's blind faith. Arthur can be smart like that, but he can also be incredibly stupid."

That made Gwen laugh. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let's trust that, this time, he's being smart and trying to make your life easier, not more difficult."

Merlin supposed he could do that. Arthur hadn't purposefully done something to make his life difficult in over a year, after all. Whenever he did make Merlin's life difficult or cause Merlin worry, it wasn't Arthur's fault. Directly, anyway.

Gwen must've seen something in Merlin's face that showed he accepted her idea, because she smiled and ran her hand down his vest. "This really is a nice outfit he's made you, though. But I'm not surprised."

Nonplussed by the subject change, Merlin floundered for a moment. "Uh, thanks?"

She shrugged. "The servants have had a bet going for years now," she said.

"About what?" Merlin asked. He wasn't sure he liked where this was going. He hadn't heard about any bet, which meant it was most definitely about him.

"How long until Arthur gave you a title," Gwen said like it was obvious.

Merlin physically staggered back. "What?!"

Arthur give him a title? Make him a lord? A knight, a duke, or a baron? Merlin was happy as he was. He didn't need a title. He'd never thought that Arthur might one day make him nobility. And even if he did, people would still look askance at him: a noble not by birth but by decree. Still, it would be such a shift in social status. The thought was making Merlin's head spin.

"Oh Merlin," Gwen said softly. She didn't reach out for him, but it was clear she wanted to. "We've all known that you were important to Arthur. No one is as close to him as you, knows him like you do, is as loyal to him as you. We knew he'd reward you for that someday. Somehow."

Merlin was happy with a smile from Arthur, with a clasp of the hand or a hug and a word of praise. That's all he'd ever needed to know that Arthur was proud of him, or enjoyed his company, or that he'd made Arthur happy. Would Arthur ever really give him a title?

Gwen was still talking. "When Rhoslyn saw you arrive like a lord, we thought it had finally happened. But then you sat apart at the banquet and treated each other like strangers. The servants are very confused. They don't know if someone's won the bet or not."

"I," Merlin started, then stopped. He touched his head and felt the metal of the circlet under his fingers. Its cool touch reminded him of why he was dressed this way to begin with. Merlin stood up straight. "I'm not a lord, Gwen. Arthur hasn't made any decrees. I'm just…I'm doing a job, helping Arthur find a killer. I'm…I'm just me."

He tried to keep his tone friendly, because he wasn't upset with Gwen, but aloof enough to pretend the idea hadn't thrown him. Gwen stepped forward and held her arms out, and Merlin accepted her hug with ease.

"I know that," Gwen said into his shoulder. "No matter what you are, you've always been Merlin."

It was a recall to when she'd found out Merlin had magic. After Arthur discovered his gifts, he'd asked Merlin who else knew, and there'd been a physical presence in the air. He'd been prepared to feel betrayed if everyone knew except him. Merlin had been able to assure him only Gaius and Lancelot had ever known, but the seed had been planted. Within a week, Merlin had taken Gwen aside and revealed his magic to her.

She'd opened her mouth, looking frightened, and Merlin had clamped his hand over it and begged her not to call the guards. Arthur already knew, he'd said. He'd never done anything to hurt Camelot or its allies or the people. He was still the same person. He was still her friend. Please, Gwen.

Then she'd pulled his hand away and he'd let her, and Gwen had said yes. He was her friend. She'd still avoided him for a few days, but their friendship had come back as strong as ever once she was used to the idea of Merlin the sorcerer.

Just like then, Gwen was letting Merlin know that if he suddenly became a lord, he'd still be her friend. No matter what his gifts or what his station in life, he would always have Gwen.

She pulled away and smirked up at him. "But I still believe he's going to give you a title."

Merlin's eyebrows came together. "Gwen, what was your bet?" he asked suspiciously.

She lifted an eyebrow, held his gaze for almost twenty seconds, and then turned and began to leave the stable.

"Gwen!" Merlin called after her. "Wait! What was your bet?"

"You may want to tell Stefan to put that tack away and get started talking to the visiting nobles," she answered without stopping.

Then she was out of the stables and gone from view. Merlin grumbled to himself about terrible friends, then turned to the Friesian. It was watching him with boredom in its eyes.

"He's not giving me a title," Merlin told the horse, even as his hands lifted to readjust the circlet on his head. "It's just to find the assassin."

The Friesian huffed and turned away, pawing at the ground impatiently. Merlin sighed. Great. Even the horse didn't believe him.

…

…

"All I'm saying is that, if Camelot's new king cares so much about making alliances with the other kingdoms, he'd be prudent to send troops to Oyfed."

"Of course you would say such a thing, Prince Arrok. Gawant would benefit greatly if Camelot's troops invaded your enemies," Lord Maleagant said. His tone was just pleasant enough to forgive the insinuation of his words.

Prince Arrok was Arthur's age, much younger than Maleangant, and had dusty brown hair and fair features. Watching him speak with Maleagant was like seeing a prize thoroughbred standing next to a gryphon. Still, he did not shrink from the lord's words. He stood tall, knowing he was above a lord in rank, knowing that Maleagant's words were merely a dog barking at squirrels.

"I'm not sure that sending troops to either Oyfed or Gawant will solve your border dispute," Merlin chimed in.

All around them, the nobility had taken over the training fields. Some were playfully sparring with each other in swordsmanship. Some were practicing with staffs and crossbows. And others, like Merlin, Arrok, and Maleagant, were working on archery.

Honestly the only reasons Merlin had chosen archery over the others were that it was the closest grouping to the city gate, so he could watch for news of Arthur, and he could magic an arrow to fly straight and hit its target much easier than he could fake competence with a sword, staff, or crossbow.

Merlin did his best not to fidget when the two nobles turned to look at him, one in blasé interest and the other in thinly veiled contempt.

"And why is that, Prince Balinor?" Arrok asked, pulling an arrow from its quiver on the ground and spinning it expertly around his fingers.

"Well," Merlin shrugged and cleared his throat while the prince notched his arrow on the bow and took aim. "Say Logres and Lothian began a dispute over the River Tweed. It's certainly a lovely border, no one can claim they don't know where it is or to have missed crossing from one kingdom into another, but who owns the river itself? If we were to send-I mean, if Lothian and Logres both wanted troops from Camelot to come fight for them, it would only cause more trouble."

Arrok loosed the arrow and it landed in the target with a soft 'thwip' only bare inches from the center. "Lofty words, and you've painted a lovely image similar to the situation in Gawant, but you have yet to explain why Camelot should refuse assistance to either of us."

Fiddling with his own arrow, but not preparing to use it in any way just yet, Merlin found that keeping his gaze on either man was difficult. He kept flicking his eyes from one to the other every few seconds. "If Camelot sent troops to Oyfed, it would make an enemy out of Gawant, because you would forever remember that Ar-King Arthur had sided with Oyfed. The same is true if Camelot's troops help Gawant. Oyfed would forever be against Camelot. So unless the king sends troops to both lands equally, Camelot loses. And if Camelot sends equal troops to both lands and the fighting continues, then Camelot's knights would end up fighting their own people. Camelot would lose doubly then. And if equal troops were sent to both kingdoms, then nothing would have changed because both you and your enemy got the same amount of assistance so the balance of power hasn't shifted even an inch."

The only reason Merlin could say such things with any amount of certainty, even in the face of a lord and a prince, was that he and Arthur had already discussed the matter at length. What would Oyfed do if Camelot backed Gawant? What would Gawant do if Camelot backed Oyfed? They could simply leave the dispute to the two kingdoms and pretend it wasn't happening, but Arthur wanted to unite all the lands of Albion. Sooner or later, they would need to bring Oyfed and Gawant together.

"This distant prince has a point," Maleagant admitted after several long seconds. "He may be naïve, but he's not stupid."

Arrok faced Merlin. He nodded to the arrow. "Will you shoot?"

Without a word, Merlin notched his arrow and lifted the bow. It wasn't that he'd never shot an arrow before. Arthur dragged Merlin around to train in all the weapons the knights used, actually. But he'd never had to shoot while other people were watching before, especially not nobility from all across Albion, and not when there was any expectation that he was actually any good. When it was just Arthur watching, Merlin only hit the target about seventy-fight percent of the time.

He lowered his arm to make a straight line from arrow tip to elbow, anchored his hand by his nose, and looked down the shaft of the arrow to aim. It certainly looked like he would hit the center of the target if he let go now, but Merlin knew he had a terrible habit of shifting his aim in the process of releasing the arrow. So he shut his eyes, muttered a word of magic so quietly even he didn't hear it, and let the spell ensure his aim.

"What should Camelot do then, if not support the kingdoms with force?" Arrok asked before Merlin could actually shoot.

Merlin took a deep breath. "A council." He let go.

The arrow struck just off dead center. Closer than Arrok had landed but not perfect. Letting out a deep, relieved sigh, Merlin set his bow on the rack nearby. When he turned back to Maleagant and Arrok, they were both looking at him curiously now.

"If I were Arthur Pendragon, I would call representatives from both kingdoms to a council in Camelot, neutral ground, and we'd work it out like civilized people. At a table, with our words. Not like bandits with our swords."

Their mouths dropped open just enough to show that perhaps that last statement had insulted or surprised them. Merlin shrugged, hoping it came across as flippant rather than nervous.

"But who am I to guess what the king will do? I'm not a prince of Camelot." He bowed. "Good day to you."

And he beat a hasty retreat.

…

…

"And up ahead is the tapestry hall," Sir Leon announced, motioning to a door about twenty feet ahead of them in the hallway.

Ostensibly, he was leading several of the nobility around Camelot's castle, showing them its majesty and all the wealth it contained. In reality, the nobility was following him around while chatting with each other. Since Merlin already knew every tiny part of the castle so well he could walk it blind, the only entertaining part of the walk so far had been Leon's face when Merlin joined the party.

Queen Lenore and her daughter, Princess Alymere, were part of the walking party, as were Sir Degore and Lord and Lady Safer. They were all, Merlin was learning, very _very_ chatty.

Lenore was worried about bandits on the journey here, and Degore assure her there were no bandits in Nemeth, which Lord Safer didn't believe for an instant. Lady Safer liked how organized the farms all looked on the way across Camelot's lands and wished they had such plentiful farmland on the Western Isles, where they always balanced between a little more than they needed and not enough to eat. Lenore was upset because Alymere was always running off to practice swordsmanship with her brothers, which Lord Safer found hilarious and wonderful but which Degore found disreputable, and Alymere said had to be done because _someone_ had to protect her castle if it got attacked, now didn't they?

"You know, I met the younger Pendragon many years ago," Lord Safer began as they entered the tapestry hall. "He was very headstrong, very proud, and more than a bit vain with an inflated ego."

Even as she cast her gaze across the multicolored tapestries depicting the battle to win Camelot for the Pendragons, Queen Lenore sounded severe. "You should be careful how you speak of a king, _Lord_ Safer."

"Oh no," Lord Safer responded lightly, not looking at the tapestries at all. "I mean no disrespect. I've only been here a few days, but I can tell you that he really has come into his own. He's still proud and headstrong, but with age has come experience. He's more, how should I put it, mellow than he once was."

Merlin preened, his chest lifting with his own pride for his king. "He has a good heart, and he really cares about the people, and about doing what's right," Merlin added.

That earned him a look from each of the room's inhabitants. Leon caught Merlin's eye and gave him a look that clearly read, 'You're being too fond.' Merlin cleared his throat and stood taller, tried to make his voice detached.

"Or, that's what I've heard. Stories that pass from Camelot's servants to my own," he said.

"Speaking of servants," Degore said, and he held his hand out toward a tapestry that had been sewn as a map of Camelot back when Uther's father had been king. Leon coughed and the hand retreated. "I hear that even though King Pendragon has a council to help him rule, he listens to the advice of his knights more than them, _and_ that his closest advisor is his own manservant."

Merlin choked on air while Queen Lenore and Princess Alymere gasped.

"I know!" Degore exclaimed, obviously enjoying the shock of his audience. Leon was keeping up an impressively blank expression. "I know it's true that we all probably tell our servants more than we should, and that they overhear things they shouldn't, but can you imagine? Purposefully discussing battle plans and economics with a servant? And then asking their opinion?" He scoffed in an almost playful manner and jauntily placed his hands on his hips. "I'm not sure a servant would even understand the concepts."

Like with Lord Maleagant, anger jumped up in Merlin. "Or perhaps you don't understand the concepts well enough yourself to explain them," he snapped out. "If you did, you could explain them to a _child_ well enough for them to understand. And servants aren't stupid, deaf, or dumb. Maybe you'd realize that if you took the time to speak to them like people instead of tools."

Later, Merlin would swear the hall echoed with his outburst long after he'd stopped speaking. It took three seconds of silence for the full weight of what Merlin had done to hit him, and he had to force himself not to cover his face with his hands. A glance at Leon showed the knight had no problems doing it for the both of them, hiding his face with big, gloved hands and holding his breath and body tight.

"When I was a child," Alymere began almost hesitantly, like breaking the silence was taboo. "I didn't understand a lot of what my parents did as rulers of a country. But as they explained it to me, and as time went on, I learned. Perhaps King Arthur has taught his servant about these things over time, and perhaps he started teaching them so that he could get a better idea of what the common people thought about those subjects."

It seemed Merlin's reputation as a fake prince would always be saved by a woman from some other land.

Lord Safer shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps, but I would think there are better ways of gauging public opinion than making a servant an advisor." His voice was neither accepting nor condemning Arthur for the rumor that Degore had told them.

Merlin squared his shoulders. "Maybe," he said. He wondered if a bow was appropriate right now, or if a prince bowed to no one but kings. "I apologize for my outburst. It was…unsuited…to my position…and my company." He nodded to Queen Lenore, who looked pleased at the attention.

Casting his eyes over to Leon again showed the knight giving him an approving nod. It wasn't perfect, but Merlin hadn't ousted himself quite yet.

"Tell me," Lady Safer asked as they all continued toward the door on the other end of the tapestry hall. "Are all nobles in Lothian so passionate about the civic rights and duties of their servants?"

A flush spread over Merlin's cheeks. Luckily, Lady Safer seemed to be the only one paying him any mind anymore. "Um, no. No I don't think so. I-" He cleared his throat. "I just don't like it when people are judged solely for their status and not their, um, skills. Talents."

The Lady looked him over with interest. "You are quite the odd prince, your highness." She smiled even as Merlin felt sweat on his palms. "Though I suppose that serves you well at times. Commoners aren't likely to rise up against a noble they feel has their best interests at heart. Be careful you don't put that faith in the wrong people."

Merlin nodded to her as they passed through the door into the next hallway. On the wall at the end was the crest of the Pendragon family. "Don't worry, my lady. I've put my faith in the right person."

His attention to the crest, and his statement, was overheard by Alymere as well. The princess giggled and gave him a teasing smile. "Oh he'll have no problem getting you to sign a treaty, will he?"

Deciding to be honest, since the men and Lenore had walked on already, Merlin admitted, "He wouldn't even need to ask."

Lady Safer shook her head. "I'm not sure if your boundless faith in this new king is commendable or naïve," she said, "but I like to think the future will be better than the past, so I'll give you commendable and hope for the best from King Arthur as well."

Princess Alymere agreed and said that her mother, all the way to Camelot, had spoken of her own faith in the new king. Lady Safer said she'd make sure her husband and their own king remained positive as well. Merlin continued the walking tour under the belief that Arthur's reign would be full of allies and unities, and was glad that what he was doing might be having any sort of positive impact on that golden future.

…

…

The sound of Arthur's riding party returning had Merlin leaving a conversation with two nobles from Elmet and heading for the courtyard. It would take everything in Merlin not to approach Arthur immediately, but he at least needed to see his king, to know he was alright.

He was stopped in the halls on the way there by a wolf whistle and a cheery, "Well I'll be. Look at you!"

Jerking to a stop and turning, Merlin found Gwaine leaning casually against the adjoining hall, Percival, Leon, and Elyan with him.

"Guess some of us were simply nobles and hidin' it, huh, _yer highness_?" Gwaine teased, alluding to his own birthright without actually saying it in front of the others.

Merlin scowled. "You know I'm not," he said.

Elyan quickly covered the distance between them and began tugging at Merlin's clothes. "I can't believe it. They're real," he said to the others. "Who'd he steal them from, do you think?" He hummed. "They fit so well!"

Percival was just smiling, his big arms crossed over his chest. "Did Arthur make an announcement and not invite us?" he asked.

Pulling away from Elyan, Merlin mimicked Percival's stance. "I'm on a mission for Arthur and you're bothering me."

"A mission?" Elyan and Percival said as one, intrigued.

"Botherin' ya?" Gwaine asked in disbelief. "Merlin, this ain't even the least I would do if I meant ta bother ya." He put a hand to his chest. "I woulda thought ya knew me better than that. And ta think I called ya my 'friend'."

The frown couldn't stay. Merlin felt like chuckling at Gwaine's antics. "You're impossible," but there was nothing mean in his voice. He shook his head. "But I really am on a mission."

Leon moved so he stood between Merlin with Elyan and Gwaine with Percival, so that he could keep his voice down as he spoke. "Arthur told me. An assassin's after Arthur, right? From among the nobles?"

The other knights jumped like the assassin was standing before them, all their hands flying to their sword hilts. "An assassin? Where?" Elyan asked.

Leon held up his hands but it was Merlin who spoke, even as the knights were looking in all directions for an intruder. "We don't know. That's the problem." He motioned for them to calm down and, slowly and reluctantly, they did. "But I'm figuring it out."

"You found out who it is?" Leon asked, perking up.

A shake of the head had all the knights looking disappointed. "I've spoken to most of the guests by now. I can tell which of them would be most likely to try and have Arthur killed. The gala tonight is when everyone will be together in the same room, so I'll keep an eye on those few I've singled out and their parties. I'll know if something is up before anything happens to Arthur. I swear it."

His words were so determined and full of force that they couldn't argue with him. For several long moments the halls were silent.

Then Gwaine walked over and clapped his hands on Merlin's shoulders. "We trust ya, an' so does Arthur. Ya jus' let us know if ya need us."

"We'll be with you at a word," Elyan agreed.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Percival asked.

Merlin thought about it. None of the knights would be able to sense the magic of the assassin, but if they kept an eye out for anyone suspicious, it could help. Especially since Merlin already had a list of people who might want to harm Arthur.

"Alright," he said at length, which seemed to relax the knights even more.

He gave all four of them different names of nobles currently in the castle and told them to discreetly keep an eye out for any strange behavior. There was no proof that this king or that duke was up to anything, but they had the personalities or motive to wish harm on a king of Camelot.

Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival quickly left to be Merlin's watchdogs, but Leon hesitated. His eyes searched Merlin's face for a few long seconds. Then he gave a deep bow.

Merlin took a step back. "Wh-what are you doing?" There was no one around to see Leon bow, no one to fool, no one to care. But knights did not bow to servants. Why had Leon bowed to him?

Still bowing, Leon said, "That circlet is the symbol of my prince, and I'll give him the respect he deserves."

Then, with only that as explanation, Leon stood and left like the others.

…

…

Finding time for Arthur proved impossible. As a foreign prince, Merlin had no right to barge into Arthur's chambers and following him around until he was alone would be conspicuous. It seemed that Arthur was busy with visiting nobles all day. Usually Merlin would be right there with him, watching quietly from just behind Arthur and giving commentary once the person was gone. Now he was forced to pretend that the distance between him and the king meant nothing to him. Now he was forced to find and mingle with even more nobles from lands he had never visited, pretending he was as high born as the rest of them.

His back hurt from standing so stiffly all day. His head spun from remembering all the names and facts, which usually came so easily. It seemed that the necessity of remembering everything just made everything harder to remember. Answering to 'Prince Balinor' all day meant that he almost didn't respond when Gaius approached him in the early evening, calling him 'Merlin.'

It was, frankly, exhausting. And throughout all of that, every one of Merlin's nerves was on alert, waiting to hear that Arthur had already been attacked, that Merlin hadn't been there, hadn't found the person in time, that Arthur was already dead or dying, that Merlin had failed. All because he agreed to this stupid plan to pretend he was nobility when he wasn't. He wasn't.

He needed to see Arthur, to be able to see him whenever he wanted to, not just when propriety said it was excusable. Merlin caught himself, multiple times, wishing that he were Prince Balinor of Camelot, instead of Lothian, because then he could let everyone know that his faith in Arthur wasn't blind. It was based on years of experience. But that only brought him back to what Gwen had said, to what the knights had teased him about.

Merlin wasn't a prince, and Arthur wasn't planning on making him one. This was just an act, and he would be glad when it was over and done with.

…

…

The next time Merlin saw Arthur was as he was getting ready for the ball. Branagh wasn't there, but two other servants Arthur had lent to Merlin – Stefan and Joseph – were. And at the exact moment Arthur walked into the guest room, without knocking, 'getting ready' meant Merlin was in only his trousers while Stefan put the dirty clothes from the day in a basket and Joseph was rummaging through the wardrobe for the outfit Merlin would wear that night.

Everyone stopped at his appearance, even Arthur.

Then Merlin huffed out a breath. "Honestly," he grumbled, then turned to his servants. "Could you wait outside for a bit? His majesty apparently has something important to say."

His tone suggested that he thought whatever Arthur had to say was anything but important. Stefan and Joseph chuckled, bowed, and then left the room. Arthur watched them go without moving his head, and only softened his stiff stance once the door was shut behind them.

Merlin crossed his arms over his bare chest. "If you're here for an update, I have plenty to tell you," he said, then began listing off on his fingers. "I met the king of Escetir and he's kind of…really earnest. He wanted advice on how to win your favor back after what Cenred did, even when I told him repeatedly that I wasn't from Camelot. Prince Arrok and Lord Maleagant are proof that neither Gawant nor Oyfed is ready to compromise yet, but if you can convince the king of Oyfed, you'll probably find Arrok ready to talk as well. Queen Lenore thinks Camelot has too many bandits and is extremely proper, so you'll have to be careful whenever you speak to her or she'll get offended. Princess Alymere might actually apply to be a knight here once you complete the alliance with Gwynedd, if she can get her mother to agree. The Western Isles would probably be open to a stronger alliance with just the promise of monthly food deliveries. Lord and Lady Safer told us all about their food shortages. And that duke from the Isle of Mora kept insisting that their prince could best you in combat, so you'll probably have to duel him before they'll agree to sit in council with you."

As Merlin spoke, Arthur walked around the room. He picked up the goblet on Merlin's table and glanced inside, as if checking for wine, then set it back down. He ran his hand along the bed, and his expression suggested he was pleased with what he felt. He avoided the window. Then, as Merlin finished, he turned and made his way to where Merlin was standing. He reached out and ran his right hand up Merlin's arm to his shoulder.

"All of that is fascinating," he said with a faint uptick of his lips, "and will doubtless come in handy in future discussions and meetings as king, but nothing you've said has anything to do with an assassin using magic."

Sighing, his shoulders drooping, Merlin nodded. "I'm beginning to wonder if there even is an assassin, or if I've been dressing up like a prince of Lothian for nothing."

"If there is an assassin, you'll probably find them tonight, when they start using magic," Arthur said. He was dragging the fingers of his left hand up and down Merlin's right arm and it was very distracting. "But still…No one has stood out? No one seems to want me dead?" Arthur probed, tilting his head to the side to catch Merlin's straying eyes.

"Sir Degore thinks keeping your manservant as counsel is the dumbest thing he's ever heard of," Merlin said, the words nearly tripping over themselves in their hurry to escape his mouth.

That seemed to catch Arthur off guard. His hand stopped moving. His eyebrows rose. "Does he now?"

Merlin nodded. "And I was stupid and I got angry at him," he admitted shamefully. "I told you, being a prince is hard!"

Arthur's gaze was colder now, though his touch on Merlin's skin was nothing but gentle. "Does he suspect who you are?"

Narrowing his eyes curiously, Merlin said, "No? Alymere and Lord Safer spoke up before Degore could respond, and he didn't approach me afterward. As far as I can tell, the other nobles just think I'm eccentric because I'm from so far north. A few have even called me naïve."

Arthur laughed, throwing his head back to expose his long throat. The sight of Arthur happy always made Merlin feel soft, like he could relax. Everything was right in the world and nothing could go wrong if Arthur could smile, could laugh, and really mean it. Merlin struggled not to reach out and touch that smile, drink it in with his own lips.

"Well," Arthur said as the laughter tapered off, "you do have an interesting view of things at times, Merlin." He squeezed Merlin's shoulders. "But that's part of why I appreciate your counsel, so don't let them change that."

Snorting, Merlin said, "A few nobles aren't going to change me, Arthur."

"Good." Arthur was still smiling softly, like Merlin had just given him a gift. Then his eyes drifted up and he lifted an eyebrow. "No circlet tonight?"

Rolling his eyes, Merlin pulled away from Arthur. He went to the wardrobe, pulled open a drawer, and lifted the circlet out just enough to let Arthur see. Then he put it back.

"I thought it'd look ridiculous to stand around in my underclothes wearing just your circlet, _sire_ ," he said, with false apology in his words.

From the look on Arthur's face, he didn't think the image was ridiculous at all.

Merlin cleared his throat. "Besides, you're not wearing your crown. Though I suppose that looks ridiculous no matter what you're wearing."

Arthur moved to join Merlin next to the wardrobe with a chuckle. "You won't insult me that easily, _Mer_ lin," Arthur stated, and he almost sounded like a hunter after its prey.

When he was close enough, Arthur reached up and pulled Merlin's head down just enough that he could place his lips where the circlet would rest.

He'd been doing that a lot, Merlin realized. When Merlin had been 'practicing' and wearing the circlet around Arthur's room, every time Merlin had removed it, Arthur had given him a kiss on the forehead. It was almost like a goodnight kiss, because they'd usually fallen into bed after that. But no, Merlin realized now, there was more to it.

Arthur liked seeing Merlin in his crown. He _really_ liked it.

Even though Gwen, and the horse, and the knights, and everybody else was wrong, even though Arthur wasn't planning on making Merlin some kind of lord or prince, Merlin might just have to wear a crown more often. Arthur knelt on the stone floor before him and Merlin adjusted his last thought.

Oh. He'd have to wear a crown a _lot_ more often.

…

…

The great hall was filled with people. The visiting nobles from Gwynedd, Gawant, Oyfed, Nemeth, Escetir, Elmet, the Isle of Mora, Caerleon, the Western Isles, and Tirmaiur were all there, as well as their entourages, which varied in size depending on the rank and ego of the visitor. The Knights of Camelot had been invited, and many had accepted, as well as several dukes, duchesses, lords, ladies, and freemen from within Camelot's own borders.

There was music being played, and a roaring fire in the hearth at the end of the room. Tables full of meats, fruits, roots, vegetables, and baked goods lined two whole walls. People were dancing with their companions from their own countries. People were dancing with veritable strangers from other countries. At the few tables around the room, alliances were being made in informal circumstances, to be later written down and legally signed.

Into this merry gathering walked Merlin. He wore a pair of the fine brown trousers, comfortable yet elegant dark brown boots that crawled up half his calf, and a long-sleeved tunic of rich, deep purple. On either hand he wore a golden ring, one in the fashion of Arthur's own ring and one a simple band etched with the writing of the Old Religion, so small that no one would notice. Around his neck was a leather rope holding a golden pendant in the shape of a dragon's head.

All of these had been specially ordered for him by Arthur, and that made them as special as any of the royal clothes he'd commissioned for this undercover mission. But what Merlin was most proud of wearing that night was his brown jacket. It was a shade lighter than his pants, obviously worn often but in impeccable condition, with metal studs around the shoulders, the elbows, and across the chest. He'd left it unlaced, partly to show off the purple tunic underneath and partly because that's how Arthur always wore it.

When Arthur had come to his rooms earlier, Merlin had worried Arthur would find the jacket hiding in the wardrobe. He'd taken it from Arthur's chambers last night and used a little magic to make the metal shine like new, to fix any frayed edges, to make the worn leather supple and soft again. He hoped to surprise Arthur with this final touch to his outfit, rather than the long, black coat Arthur had intended for him to wear.

It was customary to greet the host upon arriving at a gala, so Merlin began making his way to the long table where Arthur was seated, talking with Queen Lenore. By the small upturn of Arthur's lips, it was a pleasant conversation, if not particularly entertaining.

Seeing someone's approach, Arthur glanced in Merlin's direction. It was obviously meant to be brief, just long enough to recognize who was coming towards him, but then Arthur's eyes widened and he turned to look at Merlin more fully.

"Um," Merlin saw, more than heard him say. "Thank you, your majesty. I," he cleared his throat softly. "I hope you enjoy the festivities. If you'll excuse me."

Arthur left Lenore with as much grace as he could in a hurry, and then took the few steps between him and Merlin in seconds. He wore a red tunic and his red cloak, as per usual, but without any sign of chainmail or armor. He was also wearing a long, brown coat, and Merlin saw that Arthur had intended to match him in some subtle way.

Merlin liked his idea better.

With a great bow before the king, Merlin said, in his most princely voice, "Good evening, your majesty."

Arthur didn't immediately reply. Merlin glanced up at him and saw that Arthur's cheeks were red, and it looked like he wasn't breathing.

"Arthur?" he asked as he straightened up, quietly. Was something wrong? Were they too close to the fire? Had one of the guests just cast a spell on Arthur and Merlin hadn't noticed?

A surprised intake of breath, like Arthur had been woken up suddenly. He cleared his throat, louder than he had with Lenore. "Oh. Yes. Good evening, Prince M-Balinor."

His face was red all over now and Merlin couldn't help but smile. That had nothing to do with the fire, or magic. He'd done that. He'd rendered Arthur incoherent. Merlin adjusted how the jacket hung on him pointlessly, just to watch Arthur's eyes follow the movement. After a moment, Arthur's eyes moved from the jacket to the circlet resting on Merlin's head. He swallowed, and Merlin watched his Adam's apple bob.

How had Merlin never known this about Arthur? How had they gone so long together and Merlin had never found the occasion to put on something of Arthur's? He loved the feeling of it, of having this power over Arthur without ever uttering a word or even thinking a spell.

The, admittedly, dark smile curling Merlin's lips drew Arthur's attention and snapped him back to reality. He glanced at the people in the room, none standing close enough to eavesdrop without being obvious, and drew his shoulders back, standing tall like his father used to when addressing other kings.

"Yes," he said, sounding much more like himself even with just that one word. "I hope you're enjoying yourself tonight."

Still with that smile, Merlin said, "Well, I've only just arrived, but so far it is proving very entertaining." He shrugged and adopted a more pompous attitude. It was easier with Arthur, perhaps because he was mimicking Arthur. "Usually royal gatherings are so boring I wish I could sneak away early, but I suppose this one is interesting enough to keep me here for most of the night."

Merlin was pretty sure that Arthur would've sneaked out of the room, like Merlin had said, except for the fact that he was the king now and had responsibilities tied to this party. People moved about them, talking loudly over the jovial music and twirling around the floor with their partners, but neither Merlin nor Arthur paid them any mind.

"Well, I hope nothing _too_ exciting happens," Arthur replied. "There are a lot of important people in this room. If a fight breaks out, it could mean war." He was teasing, lightening the mood.

"True," Merlin agreed. "But what's a party without a little squabbling? You'll side with me if I get into a quarrel with a duke, won't you?"

Arthur just refrained from rolling his eyes and Merlin winked at him.

"I'm only teasing. I promise I'll be on my best behavior, sire," he said.

Nodding, Arthur said, "Good."

Bowing again, not as deeply as before, Merlin turned to leave. The King of Escetir saw this and immediately began to make his way over, to steal the empty space Merlin would leave behind.

"I would, you know." Merlin turned back at Arthur's suddenly serious words. "I would side with you."

Merlin inclined his head slightly. "And I with you." He gave a small smile. "Enjoy the celebration, Arthur," he said, just before Arthur was overtaken by the other king and Merlin slipped away into the crowd.

He had an assassin to find. If, indeed, there was one to find.

…

…

The evening wasn't too cold. There was no snow on the grounds outside. Still, Merlin found himself standing closer to the roaring fire.

Soon after leaving Arthur's side, Merlin had spotted the queen of Caerleon. Anis, as usual, looked fierce and wise. Merlin had immediately diverted his route to avoid her. If anyone in this crowd was going to recognize him as Arthur's servant, and maybe oust him to the rest of the group, it was Anis. This diverted path pointed Merlin at the hearth and the group of nobility standing near it.

He nodded to Gwaine and Percival as he passed them and they bowed in return. Merlin had them keeping their eyes on Lord Maleagant and Sir Degore. He didn't actually think Degore was planning to kill Arthur, but he loved seeing Gwaine annoy him.

Getting into conversation with a nobleman was strikingly easy. If they looked at you and saw that you were of the same rank as they were, or higher, they welcomed you like an old friend. Good evening. How was your journey here? You came all the way from where? Well of course you didn't come alone. Here's who we brought. My kingdom is better than other kingdoms because. Oh but obviously you're forgetting about this fault your kingdom has. Wonderful party, isn't it?

"What about Lothian?" asked Sir Breunor de Noir of Tirmaiur. His blue tunic sat beautifully against his dark skin and, despite his reputation as a fierce warrior, he had an open, trusting face.

"Hm?" Merlin brought his attention back to his group. He'd been letting his eyes roam the room, looking for suspicious activity, or Queen Anis.

Breunor shook his head, but he was still smiling. He motioned to the two other men with him. "Prince Palomedes claims the best fox hunts in all of Albion for Elmet, and Prince Dunstan claims the best women for Gawant. We all agree that my own Tirmaiur can't be beat for fishing, what with our many lakes and rivers, and everyone knows Camelot has the best warriors. What does Lothian have?"

While he obviously had no problem repeating the highlights of the conversation for Merlin, Prince Dunstan had his face screwed up in a scowl. "Is it 'most absent minded royalty'?"

Palomedes knocked the younger man in the shoulder. "That's hardly a way to behave toward another prince." He shook his head, his long hair falling in his face. Pushing it back and out of the way, he said, "He's young. He'll learn his manners yet."

"I'm not so young that I can't understand what must be done in times of turmoil in my country," Dunstan replied. He was probably at least five years younger than Merlin, with the same dusty brown hair and fair features as his elder brother, Prince Arrok. "And if I had no elder brother or father, I am old enough to be king of my own lands."

Breunor chuckled. "Careful. The wrong person might think you were considering a plot against your own throne."

It was clear that the insinuation insulted Dunstan. To prevent an argument breaking out, Merlin rushed out, "Dragons." All three other men looked at him. Merlin cleared his throat and said, voice quiet enough not to draw attention from around them but with enough pride to come from any prince, "My kingdom has dragons."

"No," Breunor said, disbelieving.

A nod. "They're rare, ever since the purge of dragons in Camelot and it's allied kingdoms, but we still see them at times."

Kilgharrah lived in the White Mountains with Aithusa and two other dragons Merlin had found. They kept away from human villages and travel parties, but Merlin made a trip out to see them last spring and they seemed very happy. Arthur had declined to go but had sent his regards.

Palomedes looked serious and cast his gaze around the room much like Merlin had been doing a moment ago. "Don't let King Arthur hear you talking about dragons," he said. "Not if you want an alliance with Camelot."

Merlin couldn't help the small smile that graced his features. When Merlin had revealed his magic to Arthur, he'd revealed everything else too. Upon learning of the dragons, Arthur had simply asked, "You're certain that they aren't a danger to Camelot?" When Merlin had said he'd gotten their word, as dragons to a dragonlord, to never attack or harm someone under Arthur's rule, Arthur had calmed and accepted them as fact. He'd only met Aithusa, and only for a few minutes, but he knew about all four of Merlin's dragons.

It's not like Merlin could tell that to this crowd though.

"Dragons only respond to dragonlords, anyway," Merlin said to the other nobles. "No one else can communicate with them. And you can't kill a dragon without help from a dragonlord. So I don't think the king needs anyone to tell him anything about them, since he can't use them or kill them. All the dragonlords are dead, right?"

Both Breunor and Palomedes nodded and gave words of agreement, but Dunstan looked disappointed. Merlin tried to read why he was disappointed in the furrow of his brow and the downturn of his lips. Did he want to talk to or ride a dragon? Did he want to fight one? Did he want to use one to fight for him?

The talk of dragons seemed to have made the others contemplative, so Merlin tried to brush the topic away. "Do any of you have plans for making alliances with Camelot?"

"As the youngest son of the king, I have no power to make the alliance myself," Palomedes said, clearly pleased with the new conversation. "But I know that both of my parents have expressed wishes for an alliance between Elmet and Camelot. If nothing happens during this visit to make me think an alliance would hurt Elmet, and I sincerely doubt it will, then I'm certain a formal visit by my father to write up an alliance will be short in coming."

A dancing pair spun so close to the group that they had to hurriedly step aside, closer to the fire, or risk being bowled over entirely. Merlin spent the time when the others were resituating themselves to glance around for any suspicious behavior. He saw a few people slipping out of the room in pairs, giddy and mischevious looks on their faces, but nothing to cause any alarm. The problem was that there were so many people in the room that Merlin might never see an attack on Arthur coming.

Suddenly nervous for Arthur, Merlin determined to stray closer to the king, just in case.

Palomedes cleared his throat. "What about your kingdoms?"

"Same as yours," Breunor said. "I'm not even a prince, but I was sent by my queen to check if Camelot were still a worthy kingdom, if the new king could be trusted to honor an alliance. Upon my return, my queen will likely send word to King Arthur of her desire to sit in council with him."

"The same is true of my elder brothers and my father," Dunstan reported, scowling. "But it's not my word they're waiting on. It's my brother, Prince Arrok's. Unless something awful happens, Arrok is going to tell my parents to make the alliance, whether or not Camelot helps us force Oyfed away from the border lands."

Merlin was still nodding when Breunor asked, "And Lothian?"

He seemed unsure. Maybe it was the talk of dragons from earlier. Maybe Merlin should've kept his mouth shut. Pretending to be a prince and needing something impressive to say all the time was screwing with Merlin's common sense. He shouldn't have mentioned the dragons.

"I've been in favor of an alliance with King Arthur since pretty much the moment I met him," Merlin hurried out, then bowed. "If you'll excuse me."

He heard, as he walked away, Breunor telling Palomedes that 'Prince Balinor' was certainly a strange fellow.

As he moved through the crowds, past tables of food and around dancers, leaving the warmth of the fire behind, Merlin searched for Arthur. He spotted the king standing with, surprise of surprises, Princess Mithian of Nemeth. When had she arrived? She and Arthur were having an apparently pleasant conversation, judging by the warm smiles on their faces and their body language.

Merlin felt relieved, knowing that Arthur was with someone as trustworthy as Mithian, but also a bit upset that he himself couldn't go stand and chat with Arthur that way. And Mithian had once been of the mind to marry Arthur. She'd changed her mind before. Had she done so again? Now that Arthur was king, was she back to try again?

A flare of magic behind him made Merlin tense and flip around. It was coming closer, closer, closer.

A young woman was walking around the crowd, much like Merlin had done before. She had copper hair and dark skin and was carrying a goblet of honeyed mead. Merlin vaguely recognized her, though it took him several moments of watching her approach before the name came to him. Lady Isobel! Of Oyfed! She was part of Lord Maleagant's party. His sister or cousin, or something of that nature.

Name recounted, Merlin focused on her drink. That's where the magic was coming from. Merlin had felt this kind of magic before. What was it?

Isobel's eyes sparked. She'd spotted whomever she was looking for. As she began making a beeline for Prince Arrok, Merlin recognized the magic. A love spell. Lowering his eyes, Merlin let his eyes flare golden. Then, with an ever so slight movement of his hand, Isobel jerked as if someone had bumped into her from the side.

She stumbled, unable to right herself from the jerk of Merlin's magic, and collided with another woman. The goblet overturned, spilled the mead all down the other woman's dress. What followed was a short shout of distress from the other woman, Duchess Margaret of…Mora if Merlin's memory served. Then Isobel was quietly but frantically apologizing, while her eyes flittered between Margaret and her brother across the room. Maleagant was obviously ignoring her, while those around him were taking pleasure or showing concern for the accident.

It took only two minutes for Isobel to insist on escorting Margaret from the room, on helping her with her dress, on repaying her for it if necessary. Then both women were gone. Only twenty seconds later, everyone who had been paying attention to the scene had moved on. The music, which Merlin noticed had stopped, began again, and so did the dancing.

A quick glance at Arthur showed the king looking at him. Arthur's gaze was questioning. Merlin shook his head and gave a quick shrug, as if to say 'What can you do?' Visibly reassured, Arthur returned to his conversation with Mithian.

…

…

"Your majesties, lords and ladies, and citizens of Camelot and her friends," Arthur began.

The music had been stopped once more, this time on purpose, and everyone's attention was turned toward Arthur. He stood on a slightly raised platform erected near the main entrance to the great hall.

"Thank you for joining us here in Camelot to celebrate my coronation," Arthur continued when he had all eyes, or at least most eyes, on him. "It gives me great pride to know that you would travel so far for this occasion. Seeing all of you here only proves to me that we can all be united, can work together to create a better world than what has come before, a better future. Together."

Merlin watched the other people in the room. Many were smiling, though some looked a little hesitant at this grand statement. Of those paying attention, none looked outright displeased at the idea of being united with the other kingdoms, and that was good.

"I know that many of you look to Camelot when you think of strength, of stability. My father, and the many generations of Pendragons who had ruled this land before me, were great men and women of vision. They strove to achieve those visions, sometimes amiably, sometimes brutally," Arthur said, his tone as charismatic as Merlin had ever heard it.

Elaine of Corbenik was standing with her father, both of them looking at Arthur with small smiles on their faces. Mithian had moved to stand with Countess Laudine, near the food. Close to them, Merlin spotted Sir Degore, though he was standing apart from his Nemeth counterparts. Arthur's speech had obviously caught Prince Palomedes in mid-conversation with Queen Lenore and her daughter, Alymere, but the younger royalty didn't seem to mind at all.

"My vision is one I believe can be completed amiably. I see a future where any obstacle can be overcome, a future where we are measured by our merits, where our strengths and skills benefit not only one kingdom, but all of Albion." There was some uncomfortable murmuring but Arthur's response to it was calm. "I understand that the idea of change can be frightening, and my goal is not to force this change upon anyone."

Lord Maleagant was near the fire at the back of the room, farthest from Arthur, as were Prince Arrok and the Duke of Mora. Maleagant never seemed to look happy, but he didn't look displeased by Arthur's words. Arrok was nodding along, and the duke of Mora was smiling.

"But hopefully, with time, Camelot can be not only a beacon of strength and stability, but an example that though there are many things in this world that are frightening in the dark, they can prove to be good if only you light a candle."

Lord and Lady Safer were in conversation on the far side of the room. As were Prince Dunstan and a much shorter man wearing a tunic and coat in the colors of Oyfed. That caught Merlin's attention. The prince of Gawant, who was publicly against Oyfed and wanted to force them out of the borderlands, and a man from Oyfed were having polite conversation?

Arthur was still talking but Merlin had stopped listening. Dunstan nodded toward Arthur. There was nothing sinister about the motion, Arthur was giving a speech after all, but he looked…oddly pleased, like he'd just gotten someone to touch something gross or eat something he'd spit in and they didn't know it yet. Then he clapped the Oyfed man on the shoulder and stepped away.

The Oyfed man took a step toward Arthur and Merlin's pulse jumped. He reached out with his magic, just to be sure, and felt the answering prickle of magic from the Oyfed man. There _was_ a magic using assassin here!

Merlin moved forward as well. He passed Elaine on his way toward Arthur and used magic to take her broach off without stopping. People were noticing Merlin's rush toward the front, as he pushed his way through the crowd. Even Arthur was stuttering to a stop in his speech. Then Merlin was out of the crowd, in the short space between Arthur and the nobility. The open area meant he could move faster and Merlin darted across it just as the Oyfed man also cleared the crowd, almost unnoticed thanks to Merlin's own movement.

The Oyfed man lifted his hand and said, "Brynewielm!"

A wave of fire shot from his hand toward Arthur. Merlin stepped between the fire and Arthur and lifted the broach. The fire hit the broach. There was a shockwave of power that made the people nearest them stumble. The stone in the broach cracked, its protective quality vanished, and Merlin was thrown to the floor by the raised platform, the golden circlet falling from his head and clattering to the stones nearby along with the broken broach.

Even as the world was spinning around his head, Merlin heard Gwaine, Leon, Elyan, Percival, and the other knights of Camelot in attendance running over and the other nobility yelling as they moved away. Merlin's hands and face stung, as if he'd scraped them on the stones even though he'd landed on his back.

"This is what your king has coming to him!" the sorcerer shouted.

Merlin began to push himself up again, just in time to watch the sorcerer pull several daggers from within his coat.

"Sceaotan," he said, and the daggers flew from his hands without him moving a muscle. They attacked the knights, who wielded their swords in defense.

The clang of metal on metal mixed with the knights' grunts of effort and the soft rush of the fire across the room, but otherwise the room was silent. The music was not playing and the nobility were not talking, laughing, or dancing. Merlin got to his feet, stumbled one step to the left when his head spun again, and then stood tall. The motion drew the sorcerer's attention and, his daggers still keeping the knights busy, he pulled another blade from his coat.

He said the spell again, "Sceaotan," and then a dagger was flying straight for Merlin, who had nothing to defend himself with but his magic. If he used his magic, every noble across Albion would see it. Everyone would know he was a sorcerer.

A rush of red cloak, a clang of metal against metal, and Arthur stood between Merlin and the sorcerer, his sword held before him. The knife the sorcerer had thrown clattered to the floor.

"Stop this at once," Arthur ordered the man.

The discarded knife rose and flew toward Arthur, who once again knocked it wide. One of the knights, it sounded like Leon, gave a short cry as a dagger slipped past his sword to cut his arm. Merlin shook his head. He put his right hand to his head like he had a terrible headache. It made the sting of his hand and face worse, but he ignored that.

His eyes hidden by his hand and arm, Merlin muttered, "Áblinnan galdor." His eyes flashed gold. A moment later, four daggers fell helplessly to the stone floor.

"What?" the sorcerer gasped in shock. "Sceaotan!"

The knives lifted into the air again. Merlin didn't speak the spell this time, simply cast it, and the knives fell back to the ground. Once more, the sorcerer shouted his spell, and once more, Merlin ended it.

"Arrest him," Arthur ordered.

The knights had him restrained and a gag in his mouth before the sorcerer had stopped gaping in open dismay and astonishment at his own weapons.

…

…

Merlin hissed and pulled away from the damp cloth Gaius kept pressing to his forehead. Gaius frowned.

"If you don't want scars from these burns, I'd suggest you sit still, Merlin," he scolded.

Scowling, Merlin did his best to not jerk away when Gaius once again pressed the lavender scented cloth to his skin. It stung, like an open wound. In a way, he supposed, it was. When the protection spell on the broach, which had not been cast with the intention of stopping other magic spells, had broken, the fire had licked across Merlin's open skin. The leather of Arthur's jacket had kept the heat and the flames from touching most of Merlin's skin, but his hands and face had been unprotected. And while the burns weren't serious, both Arthur and Gaius had insisted on treatment.

The jacket was now lying across the back of a chair in Gaius's chambers, only showing minor signs of ever being touched by a flame. Perhaps it was silly, but Merlin was glad the jacket hadn't been badly damaged in the attack.

"In a few days, you can heal whatever remains using magic," Gaius said, "but for now, we'll stick to more common methods."

In a few days, when the light burn marks disappearing could be conceivably said to have healed naturally.

"It's going to hurt until then though," Merlin groused. His hands would be the worst of it. Bending his fingers made him wince, even after Gaius had applied salves and wrapped them in neat, clean bandages.

Gaius gave a 'hmph' of noise. "That's what happens when you get hit with a fire spell," he said, as if Merlin had any choice but to get in the way of the attack.

Without so much as a knock on the door to announce his presence, King Arthur entered the room. He was still dressed in his party clothes, though his crown had been left behind somewhere. In his hands was his prince's circlet.

"Is everyone alright?" Merlin asked, even as Gaius continued to dab at his face.

Arthur nodded. "The other nobles are as calm as can be expected. They told me they were glad I was unharmed and expressed their concern for your wellbeing," he said, nodding toward Merlin with an amused upturn of his lips. "Honestly, Prince Balinor, I should've known you'd find a way to make the entire evening about yourself."

As Gaius moved away, obviously done torturing Merlin's poor skin, Merlin grinned. "Of course," he said in his most pompous voice. "I did learn from the best."

Still smiling, Arthur held out the circlet to Merlin, who accepted it with a raised eyebrow. Instead of answering the unasked question, Arthur instead said, "It turns out you were right. The sorcerer was hired by Prince Dunstan of Gawant, not by Oyfed."

Merlin resisted the urge to say 'I told you so.' "I guess it was about the border dispute?" Merlin asked, examining the circlet in his hands. His time as a prince was over.

A nod. "He admitted, at the behest of his brother, that he'd hoped my death at the hands of an Oyfed assassin would rally other nations to the support of Gawant in the dispute. He thought his brother's plan of talking it through was too simple and weak of a response."

Arthur gave a deep sigh and Merlin shrugged. "Not everyone can accept a bloodless solution. We're all used to needing to fight for everything we have."

"Why didn't you use magic earlier?" Arthur asked suddenly, almost cutting Merlin off. Merlin turned his attention from the circlet to Arthur. "Leon would have one less cut on his arm and you wouldn't have been burned. I mean, if that broach hadn't worked, you could've died, Merlin."

Now Merlin narrowed his eyes. "Oh yes, that sounds like a brilliant plan, Arthur. I'll just out my magic to all of Albion. I'm sure they'll be very forgiving," he said sarcastically.

"Alright, yes, you're right," Arthur muttered, looking chastised. "I was just….I was frightened, when you fell. It happened so fast I didn't know if you'd be alright."

Merlin glanced over and met Gaius's eyes. The old man rolled his eyes but headed out into the hall, closing the door behind him. Arthur looked amused again when Merlin returned his attention to the king. Merlin reached out and took Arthur's hand, pulling him in to stand between Merlin's legs.

"I'll be alright, Arthur," Merlin assured him. "Your jacket protected me."

He leaned his head up and Arthur bent down, sealing their lips together in a chaste kiss. And another. And another. Arthur's free hand hovered over the injured skin on Merlin's face briefly before finding its way to Merlin's hair instead.

"Speaking of the jacket," Arthur mumbled when he pulled away, his mouth still so close to Merlin's that Merlin could feel him breathing. "Would you like to officially become my consort?"

Merlin jerked back, eyes wide. "What?"

Arthur stood tall, though he didn't move from between Merlin's knees. "It's been on my mind for awhile," he said. "Obviously it couldn't happen while my father was still king, and then there was this crisis. But," he gently touched Merlin's cheek, where there was no burn, "I've enjoyed seeing you in a position that fits how important you are to me. I like that you've finally been given the respect you deserve. And I want people to know that you are my choice, and that I am stronger for it."

Merlin felt overcome. Arthur's fingers were soft against his skin, even with the roughness gained from years of swordsmanship. Arthur's gaze was gentle and yet determined as he stared into Merlin's eyes.

Gwen was right. Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, Leon, they were all right. Everyone was right. Even the horse! Arthur wanted to give him a title. Arthur wanted to give him a crown.

Being Prince Balinor was difficult. He couldn't defend Arthur or Camelot without raising suspicion. He couldn't voice his own opinions without being considered out of line. Would it be different as Prince Merlin? Everyone would know where he stood. They wouldn't question his loyalty to Arthur. He could be a bit hotheaded, and Arthur would be there to calm him down.

They could hold hands in public, sit next to each other at feasts and meetings. Merlin could accompany Arthur on trips, instead of being left behind with other nobility or brushed off as a servant. He could speak to nobles and the council and be taken seriously. And Arthur and he would be able to be there for each other, visibly, publicly, whenever they needed each other.

"Would I get my own crown, or would I still have to wear your circlet?" Merlin asked.

A smile stretched across Arthur's face, recognizing Merlin acceptance for what it was. "You'd get your own, I suppose."

Merlin shrugged. "Hm. I don't know. I've rather liked wearing yours," he said. "It's like having a bit of you with me whenever I put it on."

And then Arthur was kissing him again, enthusiastically. Merlin laughed into the kisses, even though it made the skin on his face pull and the burns sting. He set the circlet on the medical bench beside him and then wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck, pulling him closer without using his injured hands. Arthur groaned.

"You're going to be the death of me, Merlin," he complained into Merlin's mouth.

Merlin shook his head as much as he could without totally removing Arthur's lips from his own. "Don't joke about that, you prat. I just saved your life."

Arthur pulled back and turned to grab the circlet. Then he placed it back on Merlin's head. The weight wasn't unfamiliar now. It was a weight Merlin was used to. It was a weight Merlin could handle. Arthur looked at him and his expression was so happy that Merlin couldn't help but smile back at him.

"There," Arthur said quietly. "That's better."

And then he leaned back in for another kiss.

…

…

 _fin._

…

…

 **Translations:**

Brynewielm – wave of fire

Sceaotan – throw

Áblinnan galdor – End spell


	2. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Arthur ruled Camelot for many long years. His contemporaries remembered him as the Golden King. Throughout the years, through conquest and council, Arthur Pendragon united the lands of Albion into one kingdom, with Camelot at its head. Ironically, the last to fall in line was Lothian in the far north, from where his consort had once pretended to claim royal lineage.

But no man lives forever. As time passed, Arthur's face became lined, his hair gray, his grip weak around his sword hilt. Merlin let himself age with Arthur, though he could feel how his magic wanted to keep him young. They grew old together. They united Albion together. They fostered an age of expansion, of discovery, of innovation, and of peace.

And then Arthur was gone.

As soon as King Arthur died, Merlin vanished. He accompanied Arthur's closest knights and counselors to deliver Arthur's body and sword to Avalon, and then he disappeared. Stories were told of how he crossed into the realm of the faerie folk. Others claimed he was living life backwards and was now a young man, walking among them in Albion, unknown to those who used to be his dearest friends. And some even claimed that, in his old age, he had been bested by another magic user and was either dead or locked away for eternity.

Whatever had happened to Merlin, he was gone from courtly life in Albion. He attended no meetings, no parties, no councils, no battles, nothing. With Arthur gone, his time meddling in the affairs of Camelot were over.

Soon after Arthur's death, the nobility began to argue over who deserved to reign in his place. He had nephews, nieces, and cousins, as well as unrelated nobility, knights, and freemen who had helped him build Albion up, all claiming to be the rightful next heir to the throne.

Camelot dissolved into civil war.

Merlin remembered that the great dragon Kilgharrah had said that Arthur would return when Camelot's need was greatest. A civil war seemed bad, but he knew it was too soon for this to be what would bring Arthur back. For if he returned and ruled for another fifty years, this same problem might arise the next time he died as well. So Merlin watched from the shadows as battles broke out all over the kingdom. He saved innocent bystanders and worked as a doctor healing injured soldiers from time to time, but otherwise he let history play out on its own.

Tintagel, the place of Arthur's birth, was all but destroyed. Merlin lived in the remaining, damaged tower of the castle for awhile. He felt the magic from years past that had brought Arthur into this world. He imagined what Arthur would've been like had his mother lived. He considered how much of who Arthur became was due to the magic of his birth and how much was what he'd experienced as Uther's son.

And he waited.

The day Camelot burned, Merlin used the chaos to break into the castle, down the stairs, to the keep deep under the stones of the ground floor. He stole the golden dragon pendant he'd worn as a necklace while pretending to be Prince Balinor from a stash of jewelry, and one of Arthur's finer cloaks that had been put into storage after the king's death. Then he found the grand boxes that held the crowns of old kings and queens. Arthur's crown was too bulky to take with him, too noticeable as well. Merlin's own, simpler crown, the crown of a Royal Consort, really just an intricate band, seemed too rich as well. Or perhaps Merlin simply knew, as soon as he saw the first break in Camelot's defensive walls, that there was only one thing inside that he really wanted to take.

He left amid fire and smoke with the pendant in his pocket, the cloak wrapped up and stuffed in his satchel, and Arthur's crown prince circlet held against his chest like the most precious of treasures.

And it was. Merlin's life as Arthur's officially recognized spouse began the night Arthur first placed that circlet on his head. It had belonged to both of them at one time or another. If Merlin was going to keep a crown, it wouldn't be for power or recognition, it would be for sentimentality and remembrance.

After that, Merlin lived in a cave for a few years. He hunted, gathered, and grew his own food. He built his own simple tools and carved figurines to sell for money to buy what he could not make himself. It was a simple life. And while Merlin mourned the loss of his home, it was the life he needed. He needed time away from conflicts and drama and Camelot in order to learn how to be by himself, how to _be himself_ , after losing Arthur, the other half of his coin, the man he had spent a lifetime loving.

And he waited.

A new king took power. Albion's name changed, slowly, over time, from generation to generation. New kingdoms were formed, which became countries with their own various types of government. They fought, united, broke apart. Ealdor grew, changed names, became an important city. It was destroyed in a war and rebuilt. Again. Again. Arthur and Merlin, Camelot and the Knights of the Round Table, faded into myth and legend.

Merlin began to travel, keeping up with the changes in the land and the people. He even left Albion to see the rest of the world and learned how truly enormous it was. He learned new languages, new ways to practice magic, new ways to govern and to fight back. He studied the myths of the world. He followed the lives of great men and women.

It became apparent that the easiest way to transport the circlet was to wear it, so Merlin cast a spell on it. When he looked at it, he saw the circlet. When others looked at it, they saw whatever hat was in style at the time in their region or country. It had appeared as a bowler, a porkpie, a kepi, a flat cap, a montera, a keffiyeh, a Dhaka topi, a fez, a dogon hat, a chullo, a slouch hat, and more as Merlin moved around the globe and discovered new places and people. He never let anyone touch it, and no one ever learned what it really was.

And he waited.

Sometimes, a person would come along that Merlin thought might be Arthur. There was a woman in Egypt, a man in Macedonia, a woman in China, and then another, a man, in China from Mongolia, and others throughout time. They were people who had vision, who united disparate groups into working kingdoms or empires. They were leaders who inspired loyalty, kept promises, and usually had one great love in their life. And each time, Merlin saw that loved one die, followed shortly after by the person who might have been Arthur, most usually at a young age.

But none of them were Arthur. Merlin approached each of them and none of them knew him. He knew, somehow, that Arthur would always recognize Merlin. No matter how long it had been nor where they were. Merlin and Arthur would recognize each other even in death, even blind and deaf. So Merlin watched these great leaders burn fiercely in life, only to be snuffed out too soon, before they had finished accomplishing their goals.

And he waited.

And he wore Arthur's circlet everywhere he went.

And when Arthur finally reappeared in this world, Merlin planned on returning the favor Arthur bestowed upon him so long ago. He would place the circlet on Arthur's head and name Arthur king once more. This time, Arthur would unite not only Albion, but the world. Until then, the circlet remained on Merlin's head or in Merlin's bag, kept safe by his magic and his love.

Long Live the King.


End file.
